


A Slave So Submissive (Is Hard to Find Unless You're Doing Him)

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Category: Reaper (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Master/Slave, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're mine, Sam!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slave So Submissive (Is Hard to Find Unless You're Doing Him)

“Why don't you and I go out on the town tonight, huh? We'll get a limo...”

“Can't, I got plans with Andi,” Sam replied, barely resisting the urge to smirk.

“Andi, who isn't talking to you, Andi?” the Devil said, sounding disbelieving.

Sam shrugged. “She is now.” He even allowed himself a little grin.

“Alright, tomorrow night, then,” the Devil said.

Sam was determined not to let Satan have his way. “Meeting Sock. Yeah.”

The Devil's face clouded over. His eyes darkened until almost black, and Sam almost felt a little scared.

“You sure you want to be pushing your luck like that, Sam?” the Devil said, his voice brimming with evil. Which was probably his best party trick, Sam reflected.

“Uh, pushing... What?” the reaper stuttered, looking with apprehension at the Prince of Darkness. He felt genuinely confused.

“When I ask you out, I'm just being polite, Sam,” the Devil said as if explaining something to a pet or a very young child. “I'm not actually giving you a choice. You're mine, Sam; you belong to me. I could whisk you off to Hell in a heartbeat. You sure you won't be cancelling that date with Andi?”

Sam held his hands up. “Whoa, whoa! I wasn't being rude or anything! It's just, you know, I've made appointments! I mean, I guess I could ask Sock if -”

“Enough,” the Devil said, and his voice suddenly sounded like venomous fire in a tomb (which was about the evillest thing Sam could think of right then). “Sorry about your date with Andi, Sam.”

Sam was about to open his mouth to protest, and found himself gagged. With a muffled shout of surprise, he raised his hands to remove the gag, only to find his hands tied. No, not tied – chained. With a foot-long, old-fashioned iron chain fastened to wide metal cuffs.

“Whawh!” he warbled around the silken scarf in his mouth.

The Devil chuckled. “Calm down. You're not hurt, and you won't be for the imminent future – unless you fail to follow orders, of course. Now sit down and shut up until you're spoken to.”

The Devil walked up to a throne-like chair situated on a dais at the end of the room Sam hadn't noticed they were in until just that moment. There were bright red and deep purple draperies behind the chair, which was gilded wood with black velvet lining.

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The Devil and his clichés!

“This, Sammy, is my sitting room, so to speak. It's where I give audiences,” the Devil said, sitting down in the chair. He gestured to a large pillow on the floor by his side. “Have a seat.”

Sam stubbornly remained standing where he was, and shook his head. He might be held captive by his boss, the Devil in some place that might or might not be Hell itself, but he was not following orders!

The Devil sighed. “Always the stubborn streak. I'll have to break that. Then again, it's why I like you so much, kiddo. Now come here.”

He snapped his fingers, with a grin like nothing Sam had ever seen, and the reaper found himself dragged by the chain until he stumbled to a halt in front of Satan's throne.

“Now you can sit down on the pillow, or be thrown to the floor on the other side – sans anything soft at all,” the Devil said sternly.

Sam sat down on the pillow, shooting the Devil a hateful stare.

The Devil calmly took the chains that bound Sam's wrists and hooked it around a claw-like metal structure on the side of the chair. Sam tugged on it, but it didn't budge. His arms twisted uncomfortably up and to his left.

“Now then, Sammy. I have a few people to see. You'll be waiting right there until I've seen them. Then I'll see to you. Don't be disturbing me now, Sam, or I'll have to smack you,” the Devil said, and the glint in his eyes assured Sam he was neither lying nor joking.

The reaper was beginning to feel really afraid.

More so, of course, when the first demon came in. It looked like a mix between a snake, a bull and something slimy Sam's brother had once coughed up after a bad flight. Sam closed his eyes and turned his face away, hearing only the Devil and the other demon talk in growling voices.

Then that demon left, and another came in. This one was totally hot; it was the sexiest woman Sam had ever seen. But then she opened her mouth and spoke, and Sam simultaneously wanted to die and come in his pants. The room felt icy cold.

It lasted for a while. Sam figured it could have been a few hours, or it could have been half that time. But finally, the Devil got up and brought Sam's chain with him. This forced the reaper to stand up.

“Well, now that business is all done and over with, I guess it's time for fun,” the Devil said, chuckling. He released the chain, but gestured for Sam to follow him. All things considered, Sam didn't really have much of a choice and so complied.

They entered through a door behind one of the draperies, and the first thing Sam saw was a huge table of polished teak. Beyond that, a bed even bigger. Everything was either gilded, silver plated, made out of silk or made out of velvet. Sam shuddered. The colours were rich and dark.

“Ah, luxury,” the Devil said, waving a hand in the general direction of the room. “Fine fabrics, wood from trees on the brink of extinction, so much valuable metal it hurts the eyes... I bet a man could be sent down here for less, eh, Sammy?”

Sam shrugged miserably. He'd come to the conclusion that he really couldn't do anything; the Devil had him and he had him good. How was he even supposed to get out?

“Now, I'm going to remove the gag, Sam. But if you start making noise, it'll come back in.”

Sam worked his jaws and wet his lips as soon as the scarf was out. His mouth felt incredibly dry. He scowled angrily at the Devil, but didn't say anything.

“Now, for the outfit,” the Devil said, looking ponderously at Sam's worn jeans and _Work Bench_ shirt. “That just doesn't match the rest of my interior.”

Sam's eyebrows rose. “I'm part of your interior now?”

He couldn't stop himself. The Devil gave him a look of warning, and Sam's lips twisted into a grimace. He didn't say anything else.

“Yes, I think... oh. Oh, Sam, look at you!” the Devil said, sounding positively gleeful.

Sam looked down himself. He was wearing loose linen trousers, wide but tied in at the waist and the ankles. He was not wearing anything else, and the trousers hung low on his hips, barely covering things up.

“Uh... harem trousers?” Sam ventured, distinctly remembering the name of this style from some magazine.

The Devil backhanded him hard across the face, and Sam gasped.

“I told you not to speak, Sam. You'll make no sounds whatsoever until I tell you to,” the Devil said. He looked like he was having a right good time, which made Sam feel insulted and slightly hurt. Didn't the Devil keep telling him he liked him so much? Then why did he treat him like this? Was it all part of some lesson?

“There's a tray on the table,” said the Devil, and Sam turned to look at the tray in question. “There's also a pitcher and a rather nice glass. You'll fetch whichever of those I tell you to, and bring it to me on the bed. Then you'll assist me in ingesting them.”

The evil laughter that followed this statement had Sam hard pressed not to groan. When he turned back to his boss, he was met by the sight of a very relaxed Devil in his shirt sleeves, sans tie and shoes, reclining on the bed.

Sam swallowed heavily and tried giving the Devil his best ´please let me go, you're hurting my feelings` look, but to no avail. He was not taken notice of.

“Wine,” the Devil commanded, and Sam didn't even think to resist. He filled the glass – it was more of a goblet, actually – with dark, sweet-smelling liquid and carried it over to the Devil's bed.

“Good boy, Sam,” Satan laughed, and opened his mouth. Sam put the goblet to the Devil's lips and tilted it gently.

“Put that on the nightstand,” the Devil said after swallowing. A small drop of wine was running down his chin. “And get that for me, will you?” He tilted his chin out.

Sam was at a loss. He tried raising his hands, but the Devil batted them away. Annoyed, Sam did the most obvious thing – he licked the wine off.

“Good boy, indeed!” the Devil purred. “Now get me some of those filled chocolates.”

It took Sam a moment to realize his boss was referring to the tray he'd seen on the table. It was heaped full of a variety of chocolates; the expensive kind that Sam's parents only ever served for Christmas parties and Sam never dared eat except when offered.

Sam sat down at the edge of the Devil's bed, his chain rattling gently. Then he carefully picked up a treat from the top of the pile, and offered it to the Devil, held gingerly between two fingers.

“Mm, that's good,” the Devil said, licking his lips with delight. “Try one, Sammy.”

Sam didn't bother refusing; what good would it do? He picked up a dark chocolate and bit into it. Rich marzipan with pistachio nuts encountered his taste buds, and Sam almost moaned at the taste. It was heavenly.

“Give me another,” the Devil ordered. “This time, use your mouth.”

Sam did a double-take. His mouth? It had been all too obvious what the Devil had been playing at from the start, but Sam had been convinced (or maybe just hoping, his brain supplied) that it was all a sick joke on the Devil's behalf.

Obviously it wasn't a joke at all. The Devil was seriously making a pass at Sam. Or preparing to rape him; whatever fit best, Sam supposed.

Sam obediently took a chocolate between his teeth, not letting his lips or tongue touch it, and leaned in towards the Devil. He didn't know what else to do, really, and just one mouth-feeding-thing wouldn't kill him, would it?

The Devil's hand formed a claw on the back of his head, pulling him in close. Sam felt the cherry-and-rum filling run over their lips as the chocolate was bitten in two; the Devil's tongue was swiping around Sam's mouth and he did his best not to bite down.

His cheek still stung a little from being hit.

“I could get used to this,” the Devil chuckled, tilting Sam's head up, forcing the reaper to meet his eyes. “What say you, Sammy? Want to be my personal slave for the rest of eternity?”

Sam shook his head, eyes wide and worried. He didn't dare make a sound.

“No? Aw, that's a shame, Sammy. But I understand. Don't worry, kiddo; you won't be my slave until after you're dead. See this? This room, chocolates and wine and those nice linen trousers? This'll all be here when you die, Sam. This is what's in store for you. I'm just giving you a preview.”

Sam's shoulders sagged with relief. Was he really going to be that lucky? Was this it? No Hell fire, no being bitten by angry little dogs, no having his nuts burned off for all eternity? He was just going to have to wear linen trousers and hand-feed the Devil expensive chocolate?

“Of course, I'll be raping you every night, too,” the Devil said, and Sam stiffened in shock. They held each others' eyes for a few moments, Sam's bulging with fear, and then the Devil laughed. Laughed loudly and heartily.

“Oh, don't fret, Sam; it won't be that bad. It won't be rape; by the time I've fed you enough of these chocolates, you'll be begging me for it,” he said, grinning widely. “Now hand me another one.”

Sam swallowed against his dry throat. He knew that speaking out of order would only get him hurt again, but the need to know was stronger than the fear.

“Does that mean there's lust potion or something in them?”

The Devil didn't hit him, for which Sam was oddly grateful (considering he should just be hating his boss for everything), but laughed. “See, I knew you were smart, Sam. There is. But it's not strong, so don't worry. One won't hurt.”

Sam, biting his lip without noticing, picked out another chocolate and fed it to the Devil. The latter seemed to be enjoying this a whole lot more than could be normal, even for a bastard like him.

“I told you, Sammy, I own you. You're mine, and you're mine for all eternity,” the Devil said, his voice smooth and dark.

Sam sighed, his shoulders and chin drooping in defeat. Great. Just typical, this was. He'd made plans, but no. The Devil saw it fit to teach him some sick lesson in obedience or whatever, and here he was. Feeding his boss expensive chocolate clad in nothing but harem trousers.

“Aw, Sam, don't fret,” the Devil said with mock sympathy, eyeing Sam's obvious distress with an unreadable expression. “You got the sweet end of the deal. Trust me, not many others can say their time in purgatory will be spent in luxury and pleasure.”

Sam pointedly gave the Devil a wounded look and sighed again.

The Devil looked annoyed. “Oh, get over yourself! This is just temporary, for now. You've still got years left on Earth. This is just your punishment; for the future, you come when I call you, and you shut up when I'm talking. Are we clear?”

Sam glared defiantly up at the Prince of Darkness from his on-slash-beside the bed position. He didn't answer the question.

The Devil sighed exasperatedly. “My, are we difficult to reach today. Fine. Why don't you stay here for a few days?” He grabbed Sam's chain and tugged on it until Sam's hands were in the Devil's lap, the reaper's torso stretched over his legs.

“Yes, stay. As entertainment.”

Sam couldn't take any more. “Okay, okay! I give up! You own my ass, I never say no to you again, we go grab a beer. Fine! Just let me go!”

The Devil didn't release his grip on the chain. “It's good to hear you admit that, Sam. That I own your ass, I mean. Which means I won't have to replace it if I break it.”

Sam drew a sharp breath. “You don't mean...”

“I don't really care right now whether you service me voluntarily or if I chain you to the bed and have my wicked way with you,” the Devil replied casually, “but I want to make good of my slave. In _every_ way. And right now, after all those lust chocolates, I'm feeling a little... frisky.”

Sam whimpered. “You're going to bitchify me, aren't you?”

The Devil laughed so hard at that he even let go of the chain. “Sammy, Sammy, you little doomsday prophet, you. You make all this sound so bad. But let me tell you, Sam, if you'd just done as I said, this could all have been avoided. And a whole lot of horrible things can still be avoided if you'll just do as you're told.”

“Meaning?” Sam asked, barely daring to meet the Devil's eyes.

The Devil smiled evilly enough to frighten a legion of kindergartens. “Meaning, put your mouth to better use than whining, and you won't get a whipping.”

Sam paled. “Whipping?”

“I'll strip you down, tie you to a pole out there in my sitting room, and invite my favourite demons in to take turns at the Cat o' Nine Tails,” the Devil said, and every trace of a smile was gone from his face. “My slaves obey me. The ones who don't won't last very long.”

The thought of a whipping in itself wouldn't have compelled the reaper to do what he did then. But the thought of all the demons in Hell _taking turns_ whipping him, on the other hand, came a long way to assist his decision. The fact that this would put the Devil in a much better mood, took care of the rest.

Sam cleared his throat, still draped across the Devil's legs like he didn't know what, and shifted a little to get a better vantage point. His fingers began fumbling with the Devil's belt, slowly sliding it free of its hoops, and he studiously avoided the others' eyes.

“Going for the easy way out?” the Devil smirked, shifting his hips with a slow buck. “Just as well. There'll be plenty of time for the real fun after you're dead.”

Sam almost whimpered, but bit his lips to stop himself. He hoped this could be over soon.

He opened the belt and fly, and tugged at the trousers. The Devil didn't lift his hips to help, so Sam tugged harder. The trousers slid down. It didn't exactly surprise him that the Devil didn't wear anything underneath them.

“Now tell me, Sammy. Who owns you?” the Devil asked, his eyes glinting.

“You do,” Sam answered, playing along. The faster he got this over with...

“Hmm, I think you should call me ´master`, too,” the Devil said pensively. “Sounds so much better, and with these chains and everything... Who owns you?”

“You do, master,” Sam said. The title didn't taste too good on his tongue.

“Ah, just hearing you say that, Sammy!” the Devil said, eyes slipping closed. “Say it again.”

“You own me, master,” Sam said, suppressing a shudder. He forced himself to look at the Devil's – by now – rather obvious erection. Then he gripped it, took a deep breath, and slipped the head into his mouth.

“Oh, oh, oh, Sam!”

Sam was startled at the Devil's enthusiastic response; it was like he was more into this than he'd first let on. Sam bobbed his head a few times, his right hand fastened around the base, and the Devil moaned. Sam pushed his tongue against the underside of the Devil's cock, and heard the breath catch in his throat.

_Whoa. Is he really that into this?_

“Oh, Sam, Sammy, you can't imagine how long I've been waiting for this!” the Devil said. He was panting. Sam was almost too surprised to care that he had the Devil's cock in his mouth.

He sucked hard. The Devil's hand fisted in his hair, twisting the strands painfully.

Sam sucked, angling his head before sliding down. His mouth filled with the smooth, hard flesh he was working, and he let his tongue go to work on the head. Moving his head and tongue faster, Sam could hear the Devil's breathing speed up, his hips began to buck into Sam's mouth and his hand tightened the grip on Sam's hair.

_Looks like this'll be over sooner than I thought. Good. I think._

“Sammy! Oh, Sammy, you are -”

The sentence was sharply interrupted by the Devil's climax, rushing into Sam's mouth and drawing a deep growl from the Devil's throat. Sam shuddered at the primal sound of passion as he held still, trying not to swallow a drop.

The Devil, panting hoarsely, grasped Sam's chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing the reaper to meet his eyes again. “Swallow it,” he commanded. “Every last drop.”

Sam shook his head frantically, but the Devil merely grinned and tilted Sam's chin even further up.

“Swallow it, Sam. Drink it down. It won't hurt you.”

Sam hesitantly did. It wasn't all that bad, he guessed; a sharp, bitter taste filled his mouth, but he'd had worse. He could feel a drop escape at the corner of his mouth and trickle down his chin.

“Oh, Sam,” the Devil moaned, leaning in to lick Sam's chin clean. “You have no idea... how much I've wanted this.”

Sam licked his lips, tasting the Devil's come. “Uh, yeah. I kinda heard you say that. It didn't occur to you to tell me?”

The Devil looked a little more sombre. “And you're telling me you would have sucked me off if I hadn't had you in chains with the threat of a whipping looming in the background?”

Sam blushed. “Uh, maybe not, no. But this really doesn't make me like you any better.”

The Devil chuckled. “Well, I got what I wanted, didn't I? So I guess I can live without your earnest affection and reverent adoration.”

Sam scowled. “Yeah, well, good for you. Now would you let me go? And give me my jeans back?”

The Devil looked put out for a moment, then his grin returned in full. “Well, I could. But then again, I think I just might know how to make you like me a little better...”

Sam began backing up. “No. No, no no! Don't you even try! I know what you're going at. I won't let you -”

“Shut up and lie down, Sam. You're still my slave,” the Devil snapped, and Sam shut up instinctively. He carefully shifted around until he was sitting alongside the Devil, then leaned back against the pillows. He felt rather nervous.

“Good boy. Now don't you make a sound, Sammy, or it'll be the whip,” the Devil said, and he sounded so sickeningly cheery Sam closed his eyes and turned his face away. This could not bode well for him.

_What the..._

A warm set of digits were sliding inside his trousers. Sam's eyebrows rose; this was not punishment. Especially not when those fingers closed around his cock and began stroking. Sam's breath hitched. Damn. That really didn't feel too bad.

And then his harem trousers were yanked down, and Sam opened his eyes just in time to see the Devil's tongue curl around his cock before his lips closed over it.

“Shit!”

The Devil's tongue was wrapped around him, too long by far and it was squeezing him rhythmically. Sam moaned and let his head fall back into the pillows; that was... that was just...

“Wrong,” he hissed, but it felt sooo good...

He was completely surrounded by the heat. It pulsed, throbbed, and the slickness with which it slid around him... Sam whimpered. It really shouldn't feel that good; he didn't even want the Devil and yet he was so close.

“Oh, fuck, I think I'm gonna -”

Sam came, moaning and writhing and grasping the bedspread in sweaty palms. He gasped as he felt the Devil's tongue milk him slowly of every last drop. He forced his eyes open to see the Devil's throat move as he swallowed. Then Sam surrendered with a whimper, sinking into the mattress.

“Sam, you dirty boy. You liked that, didn't you?” the Devil said, his smirk eviller and wider than ever.

A weak “Well, duh,” was all Sam could manage. He was still trying to catch his breath.

The Devil laughed. “You're right; who doesn't like to have his cock sucked? But don't get used to it, Sam; as soon as your ass is mine – permanently – the only action you'll get is your own hand stroking you while I fuck you.”

Sam groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Don't say things like that! You said you liked me; give me a break! Do you really have to be that mean?”

“I do like you, Sam,” the Devil said, conjuring up a cigarette from somewhere and stretching out beside Sam. “Didn't I say I'd allow you to use that hand? I could have chopped it off. Now that! would have been evil.”

Sam turned over on his side, back to the Devil. “You're such an ass, and I officially hate you now.”

A dark chuckle, followed by a soft cloud of smoke, drifted over Sam's shoulder. “Oh, Sammy boy, don't you worry. I'll be taking good care of you. I don't think I've ever had a better slave. And I haven't even _had_ you properly yet.”

Sam sighed. “And you own my ass. Kinda hard to forget.”

“Ah yes,” the Devil said, taking another puff at the cigarette. “I'd be hard pressed to find a slave I can own as fully as you, Sammy. Or one I like better.”

Sam almost turned around then. “Why do you keep saying that? You don't like me; you're my boss. You're evil. You want me to work for you and I'll be your bitch after I'm dead. You don't like me.”

The Devil grabbed his shoulder and slammed it back down into the bedspread, pinning Sam down on his back. “Do not question my words, Sammy. I like you, and that's final,” he said, looming over the reaper like a shirt-clad thundercloud.

“Whoa, man, take it easy,” Sam said, holding his hands up. “All I'm saying is, you force me to... to _pleasure you_ and you chain me up and keep me for a slave, telling me you like me. Sorry, but that doesn't work for me.”

The Devil gave him a contemplative look, then nodded slowly. “I see. Well, I'll still keep you for a slave and have you _pleasure me_ , Sam, but...”

Then the Devil leaned in and kissed him. Sam, lips pressed together and eyes wide open in shock, felt a slick tongue touch against his mouth before strong lips pressed against his own. He hesitantly let the Devil's tongue push inside his mouth, briefly tasting the kiss before pulling away.

“I'll make you like it eventually, Sam. You have my word.”

Sam licked his lips with a small shiver. He feared the Devil might be right.


End file.
